


The Force of Destiny

by Debaucherie



Category: Wanted (2008)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-06-03
Updated: 2013-06-03
Packaged: 2017-12-13 21:05:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,743
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/828885
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Debaucherie/pseuds/Debaucherie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Wesley is determined to find a way to bring his father to life. Milena is determined to find out who she is. Their destinies will cross paths, but will they intertwine?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Golden Slumbers

Chapter One: Golden Slumbers  
(I don't own anything, nor do I profit from this.)

\--

"Our destiny is frequently met in the very paths we take to avoid it."  
~Jean de la Fontaine

\---

One cigarette fell to the floor, burning out as it descended. A young girl, hidden behind a door, watched in fear as the man pulled out another cigarette. She wanted to cry out to her foster mother, but knew she couldn't; the man would hear. Although she was a young girl of just around ten years old, it seemed as though she had a mysterious, almost ethereal beauty. Her pleasantly pale skin went beautifully with her dark brown—nearly black—hair. What seemed most striking about her were her silvery grey eyes, which now shone with worry and despair.

"So, dear Viera," the man said in his rough Czech accent. "Look at that cigarette…It burned bright and then—in a second, it's nothing…just like you." He paused, and his voice became very serious. "I need something from you, Viera."

"No, please…" The woman said softly. Her voice was strained.

"Tell me where the girl is."

"I don't have a girl. I don't know!"

"Liar!" He yelled, striking her in one swift move. Viera fell from her chair, her hands immediately going to the immense pain in her face. The girl shrunk behind the door, a secret door hidden in the wall. She remained unseen and unheard.

"Sir, there's no sign of the girl anywhere. She might not be lying." A second man said, sounding vaguely like an Englishman.

" _Hovno. _" The Czech man said. "We have no need for her._ Zabijte ji_." He told the Englishman, stepping outside of the small home.

"Yes, sir."

" _Ne, ne! Prosím...Nemůžu...Ne! _" The women responded in Czech. "_ Ušetři mě. Prosím!_"

"Bitch wants me to spare her." He laughed and drew his gun. " _Budeme vídat brzy. _"__

The Englishman also walked out, joining the other man outside.

"We still have to find the girl. Her powers could be...well, they could be legendary. If the rumours are true, Milena Clothos will become even stronger than any of her predecessors."  


"We'll have to go back to Moravia. Retrace our steps, find everything we might've overlooked. We have to find her, Evzen."

The girl wiped the tears from her eyes as she slowly opened the door. She looked around for the woman, but could not seem to find her. Viera had protected her since birth, loved her, given her an education, a home, and the maternal love that Viera herself was deprived of as a child. "Mother? Where are you?" She cried out. There was no response, but she persisted, trying once more. Still no answer. The young girl looked around once more, spotting a small, off-white envelope on the dusty counter that had her name on it.

_Milena...I am sorry that I have failed to protect you. Please, do not waste your time and tears over me. It will not do you any good. The first chance you get, go to Amber's home - I know that this is not what you want, but Amber is a good friend of mine and a good person. She will take care of you._  
 _When you get there, tell her your name. There is a satchel I've left under your bed that should provide for you._  


_I love you so much, Milena. Never forget that.  
_

Milena followed her instructions, finding the bags that she had mentioned. Her long fingers held a small picture of her and her mother, locked the doors and windows, and laid down, falling asleep with tears in her eyes.


	2. Enigma

Chapter Two: Enigma

\--

"The best part of 'believe' is the 'lie'."  
~Patrick Stump, Pete Wentz, Andy Hurley, Joe Trohman

\---

She awoke, only to realise the emptiness. The blue curtains were drawn, emphasising the darkness that surrounded her. She was still holding the picture of her and Viera.

"Viera?" Milena called out, rather gingerly. She noticed Viera's letter on the chestnut bedside table. "So, it hadn't been a dream." She thought to herself, sighing. Reading the letter once over, she fetched the bags underneath the bed, and changed from her nightgown into everyday clothes. Taking one final look at herself in the dusty mirror, Milena noticed that she looked just like an average child on her way to school, but somewhere deep inside…she knew she wasn't. Was she really going to leave her home—the only home she had known? 

Yes, she always did what Viera told her to do, but…this was very close to being, well, insane.

Viera's voice drifted in her mind as she walked to the address. They were just random thoughts, but she couldn't keep from shedding a few tears as she thought of the woman. According to Viera, Milena had been orphaned as a child and was adopted by her, as she couldn't have any children. But, now…it seemed as though that had all been one big cover-up, one more lie, a life that maybe wasn't her own.

She approached the place with ease, noticing that it was a building that she had passed by nearly daily on her walk home from school. It was quite a big home, at least four or five stories. There were two rather dirty-looking men chain-smoking and drinking outside. Milena approached them with caution.

"Would you happen to know Amber Tavett?"

"Amber? Yeah, she's somewhere inside." One man said, not taking much interest in the girl.

"Um…thanks."

"What the hell do you two think you're doing?" A female voice came from the doorway. A flurry of flowing red hair followed it. "You're supposed to be recovering, and you're drinking? Drop those bottles right now, and get inside." The woman said sternly. The men immediately did as they were told and walked back inside, their faces failing to mask their disappointment. "And, who might you be?"

"Um…my name's 'Milena'. I'm Viera's…" Her words stopped short.

"You're Milena?" Amber let out a small gasp, followed by a few tears. "I see. Yes, please…come inside." She told her, leading her up the stairs and into a bedroom. From what Milena could see, the Home was more massive than it looked from the outside. It was dark and had plenty of wooden panelling and flooring. "You don't mind sharing rooms, do you? This is my sister's room, also. Her name's Gemma." She explained. After surveying Milena briefly, she continued. "She's around your age. Twelve, right?"

"I'm eleven." Milena responded, sitting on what she suspected to be the uninhabited bed. "If it's okay to ask… How did you know Viera?"

"Viera was a friend of mine, from my college days." Amber locked the bedroom door and started to speak, folding some blankets over the bed. "We met at a lecture on Greek mythology. I don't know how I ended up there, really. Anyway, she wanted to know something about the Three Fates. The speaker couldn't answer any of her questions; they were that good. I approached her, wanting to know more about the rationale behind those questions. We became good friends after that. She was quite an impressive woman."

"Why did they come after her?"

"Milena, you have to understand that I didn't want this to happen."

"Why did they come after her?" She asked again, her voice raised. Milena's anger was evident.

"I don't know. I don't know why. I'm sorry."

"Amber, I came to you because of this letter." Milena said, giving Amber the letter. She watched as Amber read it over. "Viera trusted you. And, I have to trust you, because she told me to." Milena's voice was breaking from her frustration, and her grief. "I just want to know why she died. What was worth her life?"

"I'm sorry, Milena. She never told me. She just wanted to know of a place that would be safe for you. You're all she cared about, Milena." Amber left the girl, closing the door behind her.

Milena was alone again, naturally. She flung herself down onto the bed, face-first, and screamed into the pillow.

When she woke the next morning, it was a minor challenge for her to remember where she was and why.

"Oh, good. You're up." A smiling, red-haired girl spoke. "It's breakfast in a few minutes. You'll get to meet the other girls!" The girl seemed very excited about something.

"Sorry, but…who are you?" Milena asked, getting up with a few yawns.

"Gemma, Amber's sister. I'll show you around after you've washed up." Gemma spoke, discreetly instructing Milena on what to do.

The two girls soon went to the Dining Hall to eat breakfast, and Milena became acquainted with the other girls. She met Anya and Petra, the older girls whose parents had died in a car accident. They were remarkably nice girls who completed each other's thoughts. The next girl was January, who was 'really rather nasty', as Gemma recounted to Milena. The fourth girl Milena met was Dahlia, one of January's followers. She and her 'leader' were the same age as Milena. All of the girls were educated by the teachers that worked in the Home. It was insinuated to the students that they would grow up and eventually become part of their trade.

A slow seven years passed, with the winters being harsher and lasting longer than they had befor. Milena had grown up quite fast within those years, both in physicality and in maturity. She was much taller than the rest of the girls, and her dark hair was nearly waist-length. Her eyes, perhaps her most fascinating feature, still shone bright grey, much in contrast to her full, red lips. She had found her best friend in Gemma, and something of an enemy in January.

As was custom at the Home, a girl was allowed a 'coming-of-age' birthday party for her eighteenth birthday. Milena, not one to enjoy the limelight, declined the offer and opted for a small gathering at dinner with the older girls…and one younger girl, Lyda, who was a personal favourite of hers.

"Milena?" Amber appeared at her bedroom, her hands behind her back. She had grown slightly more careworn through the years, although her fiery red hair hadn't faded one bit.

"Hey." Milena responded, pulling a blanket over Gemma's lithe body. "Thanks for having that dinner, by the way. Everything was great."

"Oh, it's no problem. Not every day you turn eighteen, right?"

"Yeah, I guess so." She smiled, stepping outside the door to join her. "What's going on?"

"Um… There's a present for you, left outside the doorstep. I hope you wouldn't mind, but, I brought it in for you." Amber responded, revealing what she held in the hands behind her back.

Milena took it inside. "Um, thank you. I guess I'll just, um… Well, I'll tell what it is tomorrow, then." She said, watching as Amber nodded and walked away. Taking the wrapped box inside, she placed it on her bed and started to gingerly tear it open. It was a wooden box, with beautiful carvings and stencil-designs decorating it. She examined the intricately designed box, finding its opening—a lovely, but bolted-down, lock. She shook the box gently, but couldn't hear much of a sound. She traced the underside's wood carvings, noticing that they seemed to form words. Other than the words 'Milena Clothos' (her own name), It was a language she didn't know, words that didn't seem logical, letters that she couldn't make out.

Milena sighed. Yet another mystery. Another one adding to the already enigma-filled life she was leading.


	3. First Death

Chapter Three: The First Death  
\---

'And what is so intricate, so entangling as death?'  
~John Donne  
\---

Milena awoke abruptly, grasping the rough sheets around her.

Another nightmare.

Her heart was pounding, and she couldn't seem to think straight. She reached over to the night stand for a glass of water and the pills she practically needed to survive. They were for keeping her panic-attacks under control, an affliction that she had developed only within the past two years. The nightmares were consistent, all about Viera's death, and occasionally…a man with bright blue eyes. She got up from the bed, threw on her robe, and went down the stairs of the house, to the small courtyard in the back. She pulled out her pack of cigarettes, lit one, and chain-smoked the night away.

When daytime came about, she washed off the aroma of the cigarettes and carried on her day as it had normally gone, played with some of the younger kids, socialised with the other girls, and helped out in the kitchens. Still, she could not stop thinking about those dreams that had begun to plague her. It was strange, but she needed to find the person behind the blue eyes. The day soon finished, and Milena started to head back to her bedroom. She walked out of the younger children's areas—she had just finished talking with Lyda—and down the stairs, noticing January throwing herself all over some relatively gritty-looking man. His clothes were slightly torn, and his face bore just a few minor scars and scratches. It seemed impossible for him to look directly at anything. January was the only girl in the Home that she couldn't stand, as she didn't actually care for the children at all, and flaunted herself around to anyone with a…third leg.

Since she didn't want to be bothered by any of January's antics, she headed over to the bedroom she shared with Gemma and Pippa, a runaway Amber, the Home's owner, had taken in a few years ago. She opened the door, expecting to find the two girls chatting aimlessly about one thing or another. Instead, Pippa was crying hysterically, and there was bloody writing on the wall, the letters spelling the only name she had: 'Milena Clothos'.

"Pippa, what's going on? Why is my name written on the wall?"

"You! You killed her!" Pippa screamed, her black hair whipping around as she turned on Milena.

"What? Who? Where's Gemma?"

"Where you left her!" Pippa shouted, pointing at the area behind Milena's bed. She ran out the room, calling for Amber.

There Gemma lay, her red hair messily strewn all over her face. Her eyes were still open, as if, when she died, she was in a state of shock. Her white dress was covered in what looked to be blood and dirt, and there were scratches all over her thin, white body.

Milena was in disbelief. She didn't kill Gemma—she couldn't have. Hell, she had difficulty killing spiders.

Amber soon appeared, followed by some of the children that stayed at the home. Milena watched as more and more people gasped in fear. She noticed that the man January had thrown herself over was also there, his head rising above the majority of the women there. He peered into the room. For the first time, Milena noticed his eyes - bright blue.

"Pippa, call the police. I want to know who did this. I want to know who killed my sister." Amber said, fiercely whispering. As Pippa left, she also noticed the man - who looked much cleaner now - and asked his business.

"Is everything alright?" He asked.

"You have to leave. Right now. You can't be here." Amber said, pushing him back out the door. She turned around and looked at the scene of her dead sister. Amber covered her eyes and mouth as she cried to herself. She was a strong person, and was usually quite guarded when it came to her emotions. The sight of her crying made nearly everyone in the room gasp and shed rivers of lachrymal grief themselves. Wiping a few tears from her eyes, she walked over to Milena.

"I'm not saying that I believe you did it, and I'm not saying that I think you didn't. But for right now, I need you to get that man out of here. There's something about him that I just don't trust." Amber whispered.

Milena nodded and managed her way through, taking the man into the room at the far end of the corridor. She could hear Pippa frantically describing the scene to the police over the telephone.

"Why are you here?" She asked, not frightened by the man. As Amber had been, Milena was suspicious of the man.

"Well, that's kind of funny. I was gonna ask you the same thing." He said in an odd drawl. His baby blue eyes were entirely fixed on her silvery grey ones.

"Beg your pardon?" She responded, sounding a bit confused by his words. The feeling passed quickly. "Who are you?"

"Does it really matter to you?" He grinned mischievously.

"Yes."

"Wesley." He sat down in the wooden chair, leaned back, and stretched back, placing his hands to the back of his head.

"Why are you here?" Milena asked, edging away from the man a bit. There was something incredibly...strange about this man. Who could be so relaxed when a murder just happened?

"You wouldn't believe me if I told you. Or…you'll have me arrested immediately."

"What if I promise not to?" She asked, oddly intrigued by the man just as much as she was strangely frightened.

"Alright." He didn't break eye contact with the girl for one second. "I'm a trained assassin, out of a brotherhood of assassins called 'the Fraternity'. The reason I've got so many bruises is because I came fresh out of a fight, killing the majority of the Fraternity members in a mill-house, with some…help. Next thing I know, I have no money, no one…and get picked up off the street by a guy I thought was an enemy, but, well, isn't."

"Oh, right." She said, pretending to believe what he was saying. "I'll check you into the Alcoholics Ward immediately." She laughed a bit. It was obvious he had something to drink this afternoon. She could pick out the scent of the cheap liquor that dripped from his very being.

"You ever think you've got something that makes you different from everyone else here? Something that makes you unique?"

"Well, sure. I mean, isn't that what every kid's mother tells them to believe?" She laughed it off and turned away from him, peering out the window to see the faint red-and-blue of a police car.

"Yeah, but you don't have a mother, do you?" He asked, her head snapping back to look at him.

"How do you"—

"I've read up on you. You're quite famous to certain people out there."

She laughed again, this time with even more cynicism than before. "Yeah? Like who?"

"The wrong sorts of people. People that want you dead." He told her seriously. "Now, if you come with me, I can protect you. I can help you, and I can teach you all that you're gonna need to know to survive in this world." Wesley paused for a moment.

"Who killed Gemma?" She asked, changing the topic. "He's just bull-shitting you. Don't give in." She thought to herself.

"How badly do you want to know?"

"I want whoever he is dead." She responded, her grey eyes flashing at him.

"It's a 'she', for the record." He replied, moving very close to her. "And she is standing right there."

Wesley moved in the same manner Fox had when she first found him. He tucked Milena under his arm, handed her a small pistol, and pulled out his gun. January was exactly where he had said she was, her eyes appearing as mere slits of anger.

"January! What the hell do you think you're doing?" Milena cried, feeling that familiar panic attack rise up from somewhere within.

"He saw something that he shouldn't have seen, and I need to make sure he doesn't go off blabbing to someone." She said with a viciously violent grin.

"I need you to shoot that window and then jump out of it as soon as you hear the gun fire off." He muttered to Milena, whose fear was clearly written all over her face.

"I can't do that! I don't shoot things!" She whispered to him, to no avail. In a matter of seconds, his gun did indeed go off. Wesley pushed her towards the window as Amber came running into the room.

"Well, you better freaking learn!" He yelled back at her, firing a shot at January.

"What the hell is going on?" Amber yelled. She ran towards January, who had been shot in the leg. Wesley had his gun fixated on the two women. "Milena? What…What are you doing?" She asked in an almost fearful manner, realising what was going on. "Why would you leave with someone you hardly know?" She asked exasperatedly, trying to find the reason in her grey eyes. "We're your family! We've taken care of you!"

"Amber, I… I'm so sorry." She said, shooting the window. She fell where the glass fell: straight to the ground from two stories up. Her knees were scratched and bleeding from the landing, but she continued running. The man who called himself 'Wesley' was right behind her, telling her to head to the 1964 black Ford Mustang parked towards the side of the abandoned building two buildings down from the orphanage. She followed his instruction, and reached the car first, taking a few breaths in as her panic attack waned within. Wesley jumped inside the car, not starting it immediately-as Milena had expected him to do.

"You okay?"

"Yeah. I think so. Just a few scratches." She said, turning her lithe body to him.

"Good. Then, this shouldn't hurt at all." He said, holding a pistol to the right side of her upper torso. He fired the shot.

She slumped in her seat, most certainly looking as though death had overcome her.


	4. First Kill

Chapter 4: First Kill  
\---  
'A man does not die of love or his liver or even of old age; he dies of being a man.'  
~Miguel de Unamuno  
\---

"I assume you're calling to confirm." Pekwarsky's rough voice came through the phone of the telephone box.

"Yes." Wesley responded coldly.

"There's a letter sent to you at your old address. If you're lucky, it's still there."

"Anything else?"

"Yes, in fact." He paused for a minute. Wesley heard a glass clink and assumed that Pekwarsky had taken a sip of water. "You're late, Mr. Gibson."

"...Really?" He asked, completely incredulous. "That's your way of saying 'thanks'? I got you the girl. I did your dirty work. Least you can say is"-

"You really don't know how to be quiet, do you? It was a quality your father had quite the mastery of."

"Yeah, well... If you're looking for an apology, I've been taught not to."

"Not an apology. However, an excuse for your tardiness should suffice."

"Yeah? Here's your excuse: Fuck off." Wesley hung up the phone, and headed back to the car.

He contemplated the past few weeks - or were they months already? He couldn't recall, it seemed. Within those few...whatever they were...he had managed to join the Fraternity, realise the truth of it all, watch the demise of everyone who was a part of the Fraternity, lose the girl he...had a relationship with.  
Jesus... Even he didn't know what it could be called, his relationship with Fox. They never exactly said their 'three little words' to each other. She was...so much better than him, in every conceivable way. She was stronger, more experienced, far more attractive, wiser. Everything he had ever been 'less' in, she was so much better. Fox held such a strong reserve, and had such a quiet passion. When he became an assassin, he was the opposite. For the most part, he still was. He blended into the scenery and easily lost control of his emotions. Fox couldn't possibly blend into the background, and her entire being seemed to be composed of cool intellect, courage, and control.

His mental conversation with himself was over once he saw the car door - the open car door. Milena was standing outside, arms crossed over her chest. The innocence of her face was erased entirely, only to be replaced with a look of complete irritation.

"Where the hell have you been?" She asked. He already found her voice annoying. It was low -- too low and too demanding.

"How did you...? How'd you get out of the car?" Wesley asked, genuinely concerned about the state of - not her, of course - the car.

"Yeah, sorry about the window." She said, as he examined the item in question. It was shattered into pieces, the shards of glass strewn all over the gravel.

"How are you, uh...conscious right now?"

"I woke up, idiot."

"That was spider venom, what I shot you with. It makes someone have the effects of being dead for three days."

She gave a false laugh. "Yeah, about that... Thanks." Milena responded sarcastically, massaging the sore area of her skin where he had shot hurt. "What are we doing here? Where are we?"

"Please be quiet." He said with eyes closed, rubbing his temples. His back was turned to her.

"Why should I? I just left the only life I've ever known because you claim to have information that I've wanted ever since I was a kid."

"Well, you're still one."

"What are you talking about? I'm twenty, thank you very much."

"Really? You sound like you're five." He responded, calmly. She rolled her eyes at his comment, but it did no good. His back was still turned back to her, resulting in him not seeing her disdain at his comment.

"You've got what I need, and I'm completely willing to help. You just have to let me know what I can do. I'll do anything, okay? I mean it. Just tell me what to do."

"Sorry, princess, but that's not my job."

She kicked a rock in her anger, and stuffed her hands into her jeans' pockets. "Will you at least tell me where we are?"

"We're in the neighbourhood of an old friend of mine's. That's his place right there." Wesley responded, turning around. He pointed to the building that was actually his old apartment. It was the old place he shared with Cathy, the stupid bitch that she was.

"Is your friend someone that can help?" She asked gingerly.

He dismissed her question. "I need you to do me a favour."

"Fine."

"Go there and ask for a letter that was delivered today to 'Wesley'. When the blonde girl opens the door, ask for the letter, apologize, and say you got the address and the name wrong. Just...make sure you get the damn thing, alright?"

"Sounds simple enough."

"You've obviously never met Cathy." His remark gave Milena the first real laugh she'd had for a while. She headed for the building, but was stopped by Wesley before she got too far. "Hey, Milena - take this." Wesley gave her a knife, black wood on one side, and white wood on the other. "Never know if you'll need it."

"Thanks." Stuffing the knife into her jacket, she made her way to the edifice, her black hair whipping about her face in the cool Chicago wind. She waited a few minutes after knocking on the door before being 'greeted' by a man.

"You're not Cathy." She spoke slowly.

"No, I'm not. She's not here at the moment. Out for one of those...actress jobs. What are they called? Auditions. Right." He spoke tensely, as though with quite some difficulty.

"Are you okay?"

"Yeah. Yeah, I'm fine." He was sweating actually, and didn't truly appear to be 'fine'. Milena wondered if the man in front of her was actually high, intoxicated with alcohol, or some combination of both. "I'm Barry." He extended his hand out to her, but not before wiping the perspiring hand on his slacks.

"Like Manilow? Awesome." She couldn't help herself.

He laughed nervously. "Yeah. I'm sorry if I'm acting strange or... I've just never seen a girl like you before. Are you a model or something? I mean... Jesus! You're just... I don't know how to describe it."

"Um...well..." Milena managed to say, albeit with some difficulty. She had never really been complimented before. Back at the home, the girls never complimented her on anything, save for the odd days when she made breakfast - and that was only on very good days. "Was there a letter delivered to you today for, um, Wesley?"

"Wow. A girl like you is hanging out with a guy like Wes? What a best friend he is... The Wes I know would've introduced me to a girl like you!"

"Wesley hadn't spoken of any 'Barry'." She thought to herself, growing slightly irritated with the fact Wes had just happened to forget him and the insufferable prick she already thought Barry to be. "Look, I just need that damn letter - for reasons completely unbeknownst to me, but, uh...I still need that letter. Honestly, that's it."

"Why don't you step inside for a bit while I go get it? It's really kind of chilly out here, don't you think?"

"Fine." She stepped inside, rolling her eyes, but nevertheless, she followed his lead.

"You can take a seat there, if you like. I wasn't expecting anyone, so it's, uh, really messy." He stated, going off in search of the letter. Milena took a seat at the table, noting that she was, unfortunately, not turned towards the majority of the apartment. She hated not being able to see what Barry was doing, where he was - but she figured it was best to agree with him in order to get what she wanted.

But, still... Her curious instincts kicked in and she turned around.

He had changed into nothing but black boxers, and had much more than a lecherous look in his eyes.

"What if you did something for me for that letter of yours?"

"I don't think so."

"You sure about that?"

Milena stood up from her seat, deciding whether or not to make her way out of the apartment. She calculated the risk of taking a break for it, taking into consideration his height, the length of the area from her position to the door, his spot in the apartment, her height... It seemed like a safe bet, as she was closest to the door.

"Fuck!" She screamed as he pinned her to the ground. She hadn't fully anticipated him jumping like that. His weight crushed her lithe body, and she was really struggling to gain the upper hang on him.

"You'll do what I tell you to do, okay?" He whispered in her ear.

"Get off! Get the fuck off me!" She screamed as he grabbed her arms from behind her. It took only one of his arms to grasp and encase her two thin arms. He reached around her small waist, feeling Milena's concave stomach.

"Sure feels nice, doesn't it..." He whispered absentmindedly, his beard unpleasantly tickling the crook of her neck.

"Get off! Stop!" She managed to scream again before his freakishly large hand covered her mouth. Milena bit his hand quite roughly, which only served to force him to pull his hand back in pain. She was moderately pleased with the tiny accomplishment.

"Fuck!" He whispered in pain. Milena had expected him to find it only to be a minimal pain. He was, after all, a man - wasn't he?

She almost laughed at her thoughts, but remembered her current literal and figurative position. His hold on her arms loosened, and she crawled her way out from under him.

"You think you're gonna get away from me?" He growled, and a horribly ferocious look appeared in his eyes. Barry looked like a man who was scorned and starved all his life. 

Milena ran out the door, but Barry caught up with her in the dimly lit hallway. Their shadows - and the owners of them - struggled to take over their opponents. Milena screamed once again, in the hopes that Barry's neighbours would be able to hear. Her high hopes were shot down as no one managed to come to her aid. Barry pushed her down to the ground and smiled ravenously at her before hungrily covering the space between her face and his.

"Where the hell is she?" Wesley muttered, raising his bowed head. He had been staring at naught but the dirt gravel below, wondering what exactly Pekwarsky would ever want with a girl like her. She was practically raised by nuns, and therefore would likely be much too afraid to shoot a gun, so she couldn't possibly be one of the Fraternity. Maybe she was one of the Fraternity's kids? That didn't really seem plausible, but then again...he was living proof of something that wasn't really 'plausible' - or, at least, shouldn't have been plausible.

Pekwarsky hadn't explained anything about Milena, save for the tiny notion that this girl could help Wesley bring his father back to life. Pekwarsky had promised that she knew how to, but, from the looks of it... The girl didn't know shit.

Wesley got up, looked at his newly damaged car, and sighed hopelessly. He was tired waiting. Hell, he had been waiting his entire. He had been waiting for something better in his life, even when he did have something better. Then, that 'something better' - the Fraternity, that was - turned out to be nothing but a big lie. One big fucking lie on top of another fucking lie. He nearly died believing in it, and he nearly died losing faith in it.

"Fucking hell..." Wesley muttered. "It doesn't take this long to get a fucking piece of paper." He bit the skin around his thumb - a bad habit he had developed during childhood - and started to walk over to the apartment building.

"Wesley!" He heard Milena scream from what he assumed could only be the second floor - the same floor where his old apartment had been.

"What the fuck kind of trouble could she have gotten into?" He thought for a moment, but his thoughts were interrupted by another scream.

Wesley sprinted up the stairs to find a not-breathing Milena bloodied and bruised, a blood-soaked knife held by blood-soaked hands, her clothes covered in the very same red that appeared on the knife, and a certain former best friend of his who now lay dead on the floor.

**Author's Note:**

> Here are some Czech to English translations:  
> 'Hovno' means 'Shit'  
> 'Zabijte ji' means 'Kill her'  
> 'Ne, ne! Prosím...Nemůžu...Ne!' means 'No, no! Please ...I Can't ...No'  
> 'Ušetři mě. Prosím!' means 'Spare me. Please!'  
> 'Děvka' means 'Bitch'  
> 'Budeme vídat brzy' means 'We'll see each other soon'
> 
> \---
> 
> x Debaucherie


End file.
